


Consider: The Cat

by darkforetold



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Pre-Sundering (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22291717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: It falls to Hades to give the final approval on a new concept—the cat. Shenanigans ensue, and Hades is not amused.“A cat.” Hades tested the name on his tongue. His eyes… watering. “Why is it making that sound?”“It is pleased.” Hythlodaeus stroked his hand along its body. The sound only grew louder. “Lahabrea was adamant that it be named. It helps expedite… bonding.”“I trust Lahabrea as far as I can throw him,” Hades quipped. “Therefore, I will absolutely not—““You could name it afterher.”“No,” Hades growled.“Or, after something she loves,” Hythlodaeus kept on. “Stars. The Zodiacus—““Diacus, then,” Hades shot out, exasperated. Tired. “Does it truly matter?”Hythlodaeus scratched the underside of the cat’s chin. “Diacus. What do you think? Good name?”The creature nuzzled his fingers, still quite pleased with itself.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 27
Kudos: 133





	Consider: The Cat

**Author's Note:**

> For this fic, I just wanted Hades being loved by his friends—and getting a cat. Completely self-indulgent.
> 
> No beta.

In the quiet din of his office, Hades stilled his pen. It began as a nagging feeling at the back of his head, growing stronger, nearer. He could almost _feel_ this particular presence curving down the hallway, headed toward his quarters. The unmistakable mischief in each step. The _glee_ that consumed the soul. The color of it, too, was a impish green, deep and rich, rolling with sparks of gold. A hue he came to associate with pranks, devilry, and—

“I know you are in there, honorable Emet-Selch of the Convocation of Fourteen.”

— _Hythlodaeus_.

His sing-song voice came through the door, setting every nerve on edge, every sense on high-alert. He grated his teeth against the knocking, and if he closed his eyes, if he wished hard enough, _hoped_ enough…

“I am still here and not going anywhere. Not until you let me in.”

Hades let out a breath in a dissatisfied rush. “No. Go away. And do _not_ say—”

“Please.”

Instantly, like a candle blown out, all of Hades’ resistance billowed away. He let out a ribbon of another sigh, leaned back in his chair, and with the wave of his hand, unlocked the door. Hythlodaeus fluttered in like a summer’s breeze, his sunny smile almost infectious, his warm disposition even moreso. His customary black robes, white nondescript mask, and—

“What is _that_ ,” Hades hissed.

In Hythlodaeus’ arms nestled a… creature with green round eyes and onyx fur, points for ears and a sweeping tail that twitched to and fro. The noise it made—a constant low rumble. Was it growling? He couldn’t tell. Only that it was loud, obnoxious. Worse, practically a sin, was that the beast had _a soul_.

Green and gold.

Hades pointed at it. “Why does it have a soul?”

Hythlodaeus whispered something in its ear. Gave it _affection_. “Same reason the last one did.”

“It just happened to wander by during creation?”

“Precisely.”

Hades narrowed his eyes. “Hardly believable.”

“ _We are living in odd times, Hades._ ” Hythlodaeus lowered his voice for dramatic effect. “ _You know that. You of all people can feel it, can you not? That something is on the horizon, ready to snatch us up unawares._ ”

“I shall not have Lahabrea’s Doomsday conspiracy theories here, Hythlodaeus,” Hades grabbed sketch paper, his charcoal, “—so you can kindly take them—and that _thing_ —out of here.”

“On the contrary, I think I shall stay, my dear friend. Everyone knows you could use the company.”

Hades opened his mouth to protest, but Hythlodaeus cut him off. “Conspiracy theories and loneliness aside, I was hoping,” Hythlodaeus began, drawing closer, “that you could help us with something instead.”

Hades looked up from his sketch. “ _Us_?”

“Regardless of whether or not it has a soul, it is still a concept in its last stage. A concept created by both Lahabrea and Elidibus. They specifically asked for your assistance.”

None of it boded well. The stench of a prank twisted his face, and he waved a hand as if in so doing would make the whole situation simply disappear. He sketched while Hythlodaeus droned on with—

“Need I remind you that finalizing concepts is indeed a part of your new role as Emet-Selch?”

_.. and …_

“Your input is very valuable to us. You know how much Lahabrea looks up to you.”

_.. and …_

“ _She_ would be most impressed—“

The charcoal snapped in half, not out of the anger in his hands, but by the jolt of surprise. Indignation, too, that his dear friend had stooped so low. Hades glared up at him, and Hythlodaeus beamed. Triumphant, his soul shimmering like an emerald. Hades tore his gaze away and sketched in one final line.

“New concept?”

He looked up again to find a grinning Hythlodaeus sitting on the edge of his desk, nonetheless, cradling his furry concept. Hades didn’t give him the pleasure of a frown. He leaned back in his chair instead, fingers interlaced and settled on his lap. He smiled, too. A dry twig of a thing.

“A gag. I thought I might use it to stop your incessant prattling.”

Hythlodaeus wasn’t fazed. “Impossible. You would need much more than a gag.”

“One would think you’d have plenty to do as Chief of the Bureau of the Architect,” Hades shot back. “Yet here you are. Again. For the third time this past sennight.”

“Only _three_ times? I should make it a point to visit more often,” Hythlodaeus said. “You are rather lonely—“

“I am _not_ lonely.”

“—up here all by yourself. Luckily, you have me to help you with this quandary.” A note of mischief soured the room. “This concept—“

“Find someone else,” Hades groused. 

“ _She_ is busy which,” Hythlodaeus smiled wider, “leaves only you, my dear friend.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this because of the whole… children’s building blocks concept? Some sort of pitiful revenge?”

“Ah, yes. _That_. Small enough to fit perfectly together, but rather painful when stepped on. I remember Elidibus particularly cursing your name after his nighttime incident.”

It was Hades’ turn to smile. “My greatest creation.”

“The Convocation of Fourteen would disagree, but no. This is not revenge for _that_. It is simply duty.”

“Simply duty,” Hades repeated, sizing up the creature in Hythlodaeus’ arms. It was still making that hideous sound. “What is it? Another _epeira_?”

“It is not a spider. Although, you loved that concept, did you not?”

Hades shuddered.

“No, it is _aiélouros_. While passing through The Polyleritae District, a child lovingly called it a _cat_.”

“A cat.” Hades tested the name on his tongue. His eyes… watering. “Why is it making that sound?”

“It is pleased.” Hythlodaeus stroked his hand along its body. The sound only grew louder. “Lahabrea was adamant that it be named. It helps expedite… bonding.”

“I trust Lahabrea as far as I can throw him,” Hades quipped. “Therefore, I will absolutely not—“

“You could name it after _her_.”

“No,” Hades growled.

“Or, after something she loves,” Hythlodaeus kept on. “Stars. The Zodiacus—“

“ _Diacus_ , then,” Hades shot out, exasperated. Tired. “Does it truly matter?”

Hythlodaeus scratched the underside of the cat’s chin. “Diacus. What do you think? Good name?”

The creature nuzzled his fingers, still quite pleased with itself.

Every movement the cat made was graceful, a certain lethality trembling beneath its downy fur. He almost respected it, lounging in affection, worshipped as if it were a god among fools. Hades wondered what secrets it held, _why_ this concept in particular seemed so… special, so revered—

So absolutely irritating.

Hades finally gave in, slipping a finger beneath his mask to rub at his eye. Something Hythlodaeus, the fool, missed because he was still enraptured by Lahabrea’s ridiculous creature. “What is the purpose of this concept?”

“Its purpose is to…” Hythlodaeus thought a moment before puffing out a breath. “Well, Lahabrea and Elidibus did not rightly say.”

Hades sniffed, grating out, “A concept without a purpose is not a concept at all and should be scraped immediately.”

“Are you—are you all right, dear Hades?”

His eyes itched. “Is this— _reaction_ a part of its charm?”

Hythlodaeus studied him, then said, “No. How strange.”

“Leave it to Lahabrea to wrap an illness in fur,” Hades hissed. “Get it out of here.”

“I assure you that was not his intent.” Hythlodaeus took a step back. “Mayhap you are unable to test it after all. What an unfortunate turn of events this seems to be. The honorable Emet-Selch taken down by… a cat.”

Hades bristled and shot a glare at him. Hythlodaeus just smiled, oily across his thin lips. And the cat—it had the audacity to stare at him. Judging.

He was never one to shy away from a challenge.

“Three suns. I shall submit my conclusions in writing.” Hades turned back to his sketch, his broken charcoal. “Leave me.”

“There are… instructions on how to take care of it. I could explain it to you—or let _her_ do it, if you’d prefer.”

Hades streaked an errant line across parchment at the mention of her, heart beating a scatter of notes against his ribcage. The thought of her coming here, in the selfsame room with him—the fact that Hythlodaeus enjoyed teasing him about her at all fully tested his patience. 

He fixed a glare at him. “Quickly.”

Hythlodaeus indulged him the finer details: how to feed and water it, how it shed waste and what he needed to do. Its food was dropped near the door, with Hythlodaeus’ promise to _visit more often_. The mischief that saturated the room should’ve left with him, but it didn’t. Another source of it was still here, staring him down with jewels for eyes. Its tail flicked lazily, unperturbed by anything at all, soul as blank as paper. 

He sneezed.

If the cat cared, it didn’t show it.

:::

The cat didn’t care about a lot of things.

Hades was torn out of his dreams in the early morning hours. His room alight by ribbons of sunlight streaking through the partially curtained windows. Shadows crept along the walls, huddled in corners, to keep away from the encroaching light, and the quiet began to lull him back to slumber.

Until _something_ unceremoniously leapt onto his chest.

He shot out an urgent breath, startled, confused, heart thumping in his throat. Then everything, all at once, snapped into stark clarity. It wasn’t a dark blob no longer, but a creature—black, green eyes. That… _sound_.

“ _Diacus_.” The name sounded acidic on his tongue. “Do you have any godsforsaken idea how early it is?”

The cat didn’t answer.

“Go away.”

But it didn’t. The creature stared at him, its eyes wide and intent, waiting. For what he didn’t know. Did he care? Hades tried to turn over onto his side, but Diacus went with the motion, simply refusing to move. The cat resumed its staring, eyes growing droopy until Hades was fool enough to move. Green saucers popped right open, fully alert, expectant. Still waiting.

“What could you possibly want?”

What he himself wanted right then was to go back to sleep. For this… itching to stop, for his nose to clear of whatever curse this defected concept had cast over him. Hades sneezed and glowered at the cat, and Diacus dared to raise a paw, to inch it closer—to put it directly on his face.

Hades jerked back as if he’d been infected. Wiped his cheek, too, in case whatever the beast had done could be easily undone in that moment. What sort of hellbeast had Lahabrea created? The conclusion he’d surmised hadn’t prepared him for what happened next.

Diacus opened its mouth—and yowled.

A high-pitched, piercing sound full of need. Desperation. Like it hadn’t been whole in thousand lifetimes. And just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

Hades wasn’t impressed. “Just as ineffectually dramatic as your creator, I see.”

Except, like Lahabrea, once the drama began, it simply couldn’t help itself. Diacus yowled again and again, more fervent, until Hades, desperate himself, searched its aether, its soul, to determine the source. The need pooled in its gut, a swirling miasma of discolor in its otherwise mischievous green-and-gold.

“All of this noise… because you are hungry?”

Hades shooed the beast from the bed, stomping toward the kitchen with his extra shadow on his heels. There, he fetched the food left by Hythlodaeus, analyzing its aetheric contents much like he did everything else. He held it aloft, staring at the cat in disbelief. “Fowl—and some other questionable ingredients. Is this what you eat?”

Diacus flicked its tail.

“It is… impure. If these other ingredients are unknown to me, I simply cannot feed them to you. We shall have to think of something else,” he stated firmly. “But what.”

Hades thought a moment while the beast wailed at him, its impassioned cries extremely grating to his ears. “Be patient. I am thinking.”

He rubbed an eye and set about the task of aetherically separating the impurities from what he deigned acceptable, leaving naught but fowl. Diacus wasn’t pleased and spun him a passionate tale of a destitute animal cursed to suffer—the inane crying of a spoiled brat.

“Is that not good enough for you? How unfortunate. Be aware that there are far less privileged beasts in the world which would love nothing more than to be in your place. Be grateful.”

Hades spun on a heel and left the beast to sulk in the kitchen, ignoring its cries. Ignoring, too, the tickling in his nose, how all he wanted to do was sneeze. A ridiculous creation, this, a beast whose sole purpose was to throw a childish fit when it didn’t get its way, to wake up at early morning hours—if it slept at all. Only Lahabrea, and his partner in nefarious deeds, Elidibus, could idealize such a disaster.

Thoughts of revenge—of concepts that could serve only to inconvenience them—dissipated as soon as he turned the corner. Ink paw prints dotted a line across the dark floorboards, from the hallway to—

His heart dropped.

Hurried footsteps carried him to the mouth of his office, and inside beheld a horror born from the Underworld itself. Spilt ink drooled off the edge of his rosewood desk onto the floor. His papers strewn about with no sense of order or careful meticulous planning. Everything had had a place, and now? Disorder and chaos ruled in the way his plant was tipped over, its guts staining parchments and wood alike. Dirt everywhere, newly born concepts ruined in the tumble that’d clearly taken place on his desk. An absolute nightmare.

More nightmarish was the sound coming from the kitchen.

It had the gusto of one of Lahabrea’s dramatic speeches, worse than the droll, throaty notes Elidibus called singing. It was otherworldly, unnatural, like at any moment—

Hades had rushed into the kitchen in time to witness the cat unleashing its innards onto the floor. Nothing but bile because it hadn’t truly eaten. The beast looked up at him and howled.

“What is this nonsense?” He pointed to the floor as if it would care. “Why?”

He searched its aether for answers. Sensations not his own clawed at him. Hunger, which was odd because food, better even, was _right there_ in front of it. A stubbornness, too, pervaded him punctuated with a sting of dislike. Was it picky too?

“Do you not like what I gave you?” He asked. Diacus let out a noise. “You would rather eat the trash Hythlodaeus brought, then? _Fine_.”

He waved a hand, and the food was restored. The cat sniffed it and went about eating immediately, sickly gobbling sounds somehow announcing, with no uncertain terms, that it was pleased.

That it had won.

Hades narrowed his eyes. “When you are quite finished, we are going to discuss your terrible manners. First being that my office is not a playscape, you—are you even _listening_?”

The cat was not.

:::

It’d taken a full day to restore his office to orderly efficiency. His papers neat and stacked, ink pot righted and rosewood desk miraculously saved. His plant had suffered the worst damage, leaves punctured and stems cracked, but it wasn’t anything Elidibus couldn’t fix. It beamed anew under its artificial light. 

More alive and vibrant than he himself felt now. 

Exhausted, sniffling, Hades poured one vial’s contents into another, mixing it with a swirl. A sneeze caught him by surprise, and with desperation, he guzzled the bright fluid then and there. Waiting, waiting…

The complete utter silence set him on edge, and it gnawed at his bones. A type of quiet that told him something was horribly amiss. The cat never seemed to stay quiet for very long, even when it was sleeping. It’d snore just to spite him, grumble in its sleep just to set his teeth on edge. His life hadn’t been quiet nor orderly since the disaster was dropped on his doorstep. And the fact that his home had been quiet for a full bell…

“Diacus.”

Just the ticking of a clock.

“What are you doing?”

As if on cue, a noise wafted in from the other room. Glass against glass, mayhap. Or—

A crash, then a yowl.

Hades deflated with a sigh. “Now what.”

He reluctantly abandoned his comfortable, quiet office and slipped into the living room. Dark walls framed even darker floorboards, casting a natural gloom about the shelved knickknacks and elaborate paintings. A breathtaking view of Amaurot drew his eyes, towers gleaming through veils of mist. Of architecture with strong lines that belied structure, safety, and harmony accented with the curvature of creativity and—

Another noise.

Hades whipped his eyes to the source. Nothing but darkness.

“Diacus.”

Silence.

“I do _not_ like this game,” he huffed.

He searched under one chair, then another, making a note to dust more adequately. To his favorite chair, then, with its expensive cushions, its delicate fabric—

Split open. With claws.

Hades clenched his teeth as a part of him died.

“ _Diacus_ ,” he hissed, “did you do this?”

The beast called from atop his highest shelf—how did it get up there?—and pawed at a knickknack, edging it toward oblivion. His first instinct was to shout at the animal, demand it stop, but something inside him, thirsting for destruction, was entirely too curious. 

The cat moved it by an ilm, then another, and simply watched as it teetered, then toppled over and tumbled to the floor. In triumph, the beast let out a wail.

“Congratulations,” he commented dryly. “You have had your fun. Now, get down.”

Except it didn’t listen, because it never did, did it? Hades narrowed his eyes as—no. 

It was glass, its color so unique, so _her_ it could never be replicated. A butterfly, she’d called it. Simple and beautiful, whimsical. A gift _just because_ , she’d said. And this… absolute hellbeast was headed right for it.

“No,” he snapped automatically, stepping forward. “Get down, or I shall remove you myself.”

The cat watched him, sitting on its haunches much too close to his prized possession. It gingerly stuck out a paw, gently touching the glass figurine. To test him.

“If you have any mercy at all,” he began, tone earnest, “you will leave it alone.”

But nightmares birthed from the depths of the Underworld had no mercy. The cat stared at him, and if it could smile, it surely did. The butterfly tumbled off the edge, falling, falling—until Hades caught it midair with a fissure of extended aether. He glared at the beast with pursed lips, channeling all the cruelty he could muster:

“ _Bad cat_.”

Diacus licked its paw from its imperious perch, unaffected.

Then, like an epiphany, it dawned on him.

He hadn’t sneezed. Not once.

:::

A high-speed chase. Terribly sudden, and then a yowl.

Hades cracked open one eye to the early morning light, grunted then rolled over, pillow in tow. But there was no peace to be had. A sudden jolt on the bed told him that the hellbeast had joined him. Ignoring it _never_ worked, so he peeked at it from beneath his pillow—and that was all it took. The cat arched its back, dark fur on end, tail thick and puffy. It let out a hideous sound, then bolted off the bed, from the room to another.

All was quiet—until he heard another crash.

Hades hissed and blotted out the world with his pillow.

:::

Hades looked at the ornate clock on the opposite wall, then to the door. Three suns had passed since the hellbeast had cursed his home, and Hythlodaeus was due at any moment. He mimicked every second with the tap of his cylindrical pen, waiting, eyeing Diacus every time the cat peeked its head over the desk to investigate. 

“Your little adventure ends here, beast.”

Hythlodaeus didn’t knock this time, instead slid through the door with his charismatic smile. Bowing with a flair, even, the air about him sickening, as if he’d won the best game in the world.

“Honorable Emet-Selch of the Convocation of Fourteen,” he beamed, then stopped. His whole demeanor changed in a moment. _Tap, tap, tap_. Hythlodaeus nearly shuddered, but rolled it off his shoulders with another grin. “Another one of your moods today, I see.”

Diacus made matters worse by leaping from the nearest chair onto Hythlodaeus’ broad shoulders. His dear friend took the affection in stride, returning it with underchin scratches and whispered sweet nothings.

“What a pair you two make,” Hades grumbled bitterly. “Almost as if you are in this together.”

“Whatever do you mean, dear Hades?” Hythlodaeus oozed.

“It is Emet-Selch to you.”

Hades nudged his newest concept with his pen. The tiny pendulum swung back and forth, emitting a _tick_ with each. Hythlodaeus narrowed his eyes for a moment, then whispered to the cat. “Your master seems a little angry with me, dear Diacus. Whatever shall I do? _I know_. Let us see if we cannot turn that frown upside down, hm?”

“How quaint,” Hades snipped. “Sit down.”

Dutifully, Hythlodaeus took a seat, stroking Diacus’ chest with nimble fingers, the beast perched squarely on his shoulders like some sort of familiar. Hades leaned back in his chair, leveling his dear friend with a glare that made Hythlodaeus grin even more. A strained grin, at that. The sound was getting to him.

Hythlodaeus eyed the pendulum on his desk. “New concept?”

“Made with you solely in mind.”

“Is that so?” Hythlodaeus scritched the cat. “Sometimes I wake up at night with tears in my eyes, so overcome with gratitude that you are my dear friend, Hades.”

“Flattery, however sarcastic, will not get you far here.”

“Hm.” Hythlodaeus shifted uneasily. “What is the purpose of this—?”

“I have not thought that far ahead.”

“A dear friend once said that a concept without a purpose is not a concept at all. Mayhap you shoulder consider scraping it altogether.”

“What a deeply insightful, intelligent friend you have.”

“He has his moments,” Hythlodaeus quipped. “May I?”

His dear friend reached for the pendulum, to stop it undoubtedly, but Hades was quicker. The pen’s tip nipped at the offending hand like a beast might, and Hythlodaeus wretched his hand away, scandalized. Feigning wounded and whispering a broken, “So cruel today, Hades.”

“Cruel? _Cruel_?” Hades echoed. “Let me regale you with cruel, my dear Hythlodaeus. This—“ He pointed at the cat. “—is cruel. I thought you above falling for Lahabrea’s tricks, but this? _This_ changes everything.”

Hades crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, anywhere else but at Hythlodaeus. The wall, with its tiny cobweb in the corner nonetheless.

“I think—“ he heard Hythlodaeus whisper, to the cat undoubtedly. “I think dear Hades might be… _pouting_.”

Hades snapped a glare at him. 

“Hm. Might it be safe to assume, then, that you and Diacus still are not getting along? Lahabrea and Elidibus would be disappointed.”

“To the _Underworld_ with those two,” Hades growled. “This concept is a complete disaster, highly defected, and will _not_ get a final approval. Certainly not from me.”

“Defects?” Hythlodaeus echoed. “Whatever seems to be the matter with it?”

Hades eyed the beast as it launched itself from Hythlodaeus’ shoulders to his desk. Graceful, inspiring in a way, but with the full intention of causing mischief. Its soul blazed, _sparkled_ , with green-and-gold. In front of him, Hythlodaeus was growing more agitated with the constant ticking. Something that filled Hades with glee.

Diacus swept its tail under Hades’ nose.

“What _isn’t_ the matter with it,” Hades snapped, recoiling, shooting a glare at the cat. “Its favorite pastime is running wildly from room to room with no purpose—particularly and only, it seems, when I am trying to sleep. If that alone is not enough to scrap this… _thing_ , I must mention how much it enjoys toppling my things from its highest perch _just because_.”

“Horrible,” Hythlodaeus humored.

“—and eating? This hellbeast would rather eat the questionable food you provided, and will not—I stress _will not_ —eat anything else. Not unless I want bile and gods-knows-what-else on my carpets.”

“Distressing.”

“It chased its own tail for fifteen minutes, _Hythlodaeus_. Fifteen minutes. What concept is amused with itself for that period of time?”

Diacus chose that moment to swat at the pendulum, toppling it over, freeing Hythlodaeus from torture.

“—Diacus,” Hades snapped. “Would you _please_.”

“To answer your question, dear Hades,” Hythlodaeus grinned anew. “You were quite amused with yourself for _days_ after the rotten fish incident.”

“ _That_ was humorous.”

“Again, the Convocation of Fourteen would disagree. That room in particular smelled hideous for a week and had to be fully redressed in the end,” Hythlodaeus added.

“I gave strict orders not to open it inside,” Hades countered.

“Lahabrea does exactly the opposite of what you say.”

“It taught him a lesson, did it not?” Hades pointed out.

“Elidibus still gags every time you mention fish.”

“An added boon.”

Diacus launched itself into Hythlodaeus’ lap, curling there out of spite. That pleased sound just adding more insult to injury. Hythlodaeus sent a slender hand down its spine, scratching behind its ears. “What a conundrum we have here,” his dear friend said at length. “Would you say it is a good concept, though?”

Hades frowned. “I just dazzled you with its defects. Of course it is not a good concept.”

“Consider me dazzled, dear old friend.” Hythlodaeus whispered something to Diacus. “But what if you are simply… wrong?”

Hades narrowed his eyes. “It is my duty to finalize concepts as Emet-Selch. This one, in particular, is a disgrace to our society. Dangerous, even.”

Hythlodaeus laughed, a sound he always found quite pleasing, like wind chimes on a cool summer’s night. Except now, it was as poisonous to his ears as Diacus’ mewling. “What of its nuances?”

His dear friend stood, and Diacus leapt onto the desk again in one fluid motion. Hades narrowed his eyes at Hythlodaeus, then the cat, then back again. “I am about to learn of its nuances, aren’t I?”

Hythlodaeus shrugged a little, a motion that always preceded his particular brand of mischief. Hades settled into his chair and fanned fingers across his face, like a bored student about to endure one of Elidibus’ lectures.

“A question or two, if I may,” Hythlodaeus zeroed in on a solid orb of onyx, one of his first concepts— “Would you say that our furry concept here is… particular?”

—and subsequently _moved_ it, just an ilm to the right. Hades sunk his index finger into his mouth, biting the nail, watching Hythlodaeus send a sly smile over his shoulder at him. Testing him. Hades didn’t give in, offered a little shrug in lieu of an answer, and visibly relaxed as his dear friend moved away from his onyx orb—his _out of place_ onyx orb. To a realistic painting of Amaurot, then, Hythlodaeus’ eyes deadest on its details, its curves. Distracted.

Hades moved the onyx sphere back to its rightful place with a thought.

“What about imaginative?”

“Your point, Hythlodaeus,” Hades huffed out. “Get to it.”

His dear friend studied the painting, the shades of light and dark, the sweeping lines. They’d said Hades had a gift of portraying light, lifelike on canvas, so real they swore light itself emanated from each source. _A true talent_ , they’d said. _I wish you’d paint more, Hades_ , she’d said.

“Despite its ‘defects,’ as you call them, I find the concept quite charming. Yes, it is possible that it takes… a special person or persons to love something so nuanced, prickly in some ways—“ Hades reached for the pendulum again, but Hythlodaeus’ glare stopped him. “—certainly difficult to deal with most of the time. But. It is endearing. Some would say, a better friend than anyone could hope to have.”

Diacus nudged his hand, and Hades almost wretched back in surprise. “I simply do not agree.”

“Another nuance,” Hythlodaeus quipped. “Touch-starved.”

Hades frowned at the cat and crossed his arms in way of refusal. But the cat advanced on him.

“Since you are not playing fair,” Hythlodaeus began, “And since you lack the proper… tenderness required for this concept, I shall have a certain _mutual friend_ show you how to handle it. Are you free later today? Good.”

“Hythlodaeus!”

His dear friend was long gone, leaving the cat to watch him, judge him, with bright green eyes.

“Look what you have done,” Hades hissed.

If the cat cared, it didn’t show it.

:::

Hades paced the living room floor, wringing his hands, straightening already perfectly aligned books, paintings and knickknacks. Every breath was a labor, his guts wrenching in tight endless coils. All he wanted to do was retreat, never see the waking world. Only one person made him feel thus, and the thought of her here, in his home... 

Diacus let out a cry from the corner it had staked out for the spectacle. Hades shot him a look, whispered, “Do not make a fool of me,” then continued worrying a hole in the floor. He paused a moment to fluff couch cushions, center a plate of sweets—her favorite—in the middle of the five-times-cleaned coffee table. His lips pained from the number of times he bit the skin there, out of sheer unreasonable terror.

“She is just visiting,” he told himself. Diacus sounded his agreement.

Then, at the door—a knock.

They both froze.

After he didn’t answer for a time—

“Hello? Are you home?”

In a rush of air, he let out the breath he’d been holding. His head swam, pure adrenaline rushing through his veins. The beating of his heart so strong, so urgent, he couldn’t hear anything else. He wondered if she could hear it too.

Another knock.

The spell broke. He shifted into motion, grabbing the door, opening it—to her beautiful face, all porcelain lines, both delicate and timeless. The plain white mask on her face did nothing to dull her splendor, her simple black robes only lending its weight to her mystery. Her smile reached her eyes, a slate gray, which on anyone else would seem lifeless—but hers? They were life itself, brimming over with intelligence, bold of spirit, of kindness.

He melted in front of her. He knew nothing of tension, of fear. Just… peace.

“Honorable Emet-Selch.”

The title sounded heavenly in her mouth. Suddenly, he didn’t deserve it at all.

“It is still just Hades,” he answered softly.

“Hades.”

They stood there a moment, awash in each other’s orbit, neither daring to breach the other’s personal space. But then, miraculously, she did, moving in a step to slip her arm around his waist in a half-hug. The suddenness of her warmth bloomed in him an urgent desire to create—the single most cherished gift one could give another. And it happened sporadically, as it always did with her. Always the same thing, same shape, same hue.

A butterfly of blues and purples, of greens shifting into golds.

The color of her soul. 

Diacus saw it first, slinking around them to stare at the creature just outside his door. Hades glowered at the cat, then the butterfly. He absolutely hated that he couldn’t control his creation magicks around her. A weakness, it was. A tell-tale sign that he was absolutely, in lo—

“How are you?”

A whisper in his ear. His words caught in his throat, but his fingers still worked. And just as Diacus readied himself to jump at the bright insect, Hades snapped—and it was gone.

She pulled away just then and looked behind her, toward the noise that rang ephemeral in her ear. Then, she looked down and saw it—the bane of his existence.

“What is this?”

“ _The concept_ ,” as if the words alone should strike terror in her heart.

They didn’t.

Instead, she stooped low and outstretched a hand. “He is beautiful.”

_He?_

Diacus leaned into her touch, and Hades was overcome with a surge of jealousy. Watching it eat up her affection, arching its back into her slender fingers, made him simply turn and walk away. Into his home, onto the couch, where he just simply… collapsed. Tired, fed up—and as Hythlodaeus would say—pouting.

“Are you tired?” She asked from the door, Diacus already in her arms. “Should I come back another time?”

He motioned to the empty space beside him on the couch. Graceful, like a fluttering leaf, she settled in beside him, too far away to feel her warmth. He exuded his mood, to which she had always been sensitive, and subconsciously, as always, used it as a barrier between them. None of this would go well.

“It—he,” Hades corrected, “keeps me up at night.”

“That is not very nice, Diacus,” she cooed, rubbing beneath its chin.

“Of course you already know his name.”

“Hythlodaeus told me you two are not seeing eye-to-eye, that mayhap I could help,” she said, her tone gentle.

“If you can get rid of it, that would surely help,” he muttered.

“Hades,” she chided. It was soft, somehow a balm to his bruised ego.

“It is broken,” he reasoned. He couldn’t look at her, even as she edged a little closer to him. Suddenly, in front of her, he felt petulant, ashamed that his attitude—what? Kept him from liking a disaster? He frowned, steeling his resolve. “You cannot honestly tell me this… concept is a good one.”

“He is very loving,” she mused, laughing a little when Diacus, the charmer, nuzzled her jawline.

“To you,” came the mutter.

Her laughter made the sun shine on his dour mood, and he angled his head to watch their exchange. She kissed the beast’s head, rubbed her nose against his, and let out another whisper of a laugh. The movement of it brought them closer, her arm brushing his—the warmth of it thawed him, even brought a smile to his frozen lips.

“You like him.”

“I love him,” she corrected. 

Their eyes met.

His heart thundered in his chest. That… irritating urge to create blooming at his fingertips. He inhaled sharply and bit the inside of his cheek. If he even _thought_ to create right now, a sea of butterflies would suffocate them all.

She broke contact first. “Are these sweets?”

He swallowed hard. “I know how much you like them.”

Into her mouth went several small confections, her cheeks puffy with them. He leaned an elbow on the arm of the couch, fanning knuckles against his jawline. Just watching her chew. It wouldn’t be absolutely adorable if it were anyone else but her.

She looked at him, mouth still stuffed. “What?”

Crumbs flaked from her lips. He couldn’t help his smile from growing wider.

“You look like one of those—hm.” Hades thought a moment. “Elidibus’ rodent the other week. The one we dared him to creat—”

“A chipmunk?”

Hades snapped. “Precisely.”

She swatted him, and he feigned wounded. “I shall have you know that I do not look like a rodent, thank you, Honorable Emet-Selch.”

Hades chuckled into his fingers, unable to help looking away. Delicate fingers touched his cheek then, her giggle much too close to his ear. “Are you— _blushing_?”

“No,” he said in a single breath. Definitely blushing.

“I think you are blushing. What would Hythlodaeus think?”

Hades turned then, to chastise her, to say his dear friend wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if she told. But he stopped mid syllable, met fully with her smoldering gray eyes. A ribbon of lilac and vanilla tickled his nose, drawing him closer. Just an ilm apart, and if breached, their lips would touch. He’d kiss her, fusing their mouths together. She’d drag him under and he’d drown, dying willingly under the pull of her voice, her warmth, her touches.

If he just dared…

Hades dropped his eyes to her mouth, then up to her intense gaze. She smiled, knowing, closing the g—

The hellbeast dug his claws into his foot.

He screeched and lurched back away from her, glaring at Diacus’ retreating form—its mannerisms suggesting the bastard was in one of its attack-anything-on-sight moods. Which mostly included Hades himself.

“Do you see?” Hades growled, rubbing his ankle. “It is defected.”

“He is playing with you.”

“I would rather he didn’t,” Hades shot back, indignant. 

“Diacus is not broken,” she whispered. Trying to smooth things over.

“It runs around at all bells of the night, refuses the food I give it—how is it not broken?”

“ _He_ has a lot of nuances,” she returned gently.

“So Hythlodaeus said, and so I have gathered,” Hades grated. “Why go through all this trouble? Making a concept so… difficult to understand, so absolutely inane and finicky? What is the purpose?”

“I think he was created to just… love someone as much as he is able.”

“That makes no sense. That is not a reason to exist.”

She signed, fiddling with an errant thread of her robe. “This concept… is for those of us who are secretly lonely, Hades, who are so selfless, so giving and loving themselves, that it simply does not occur to them to ask for love in return.” A beat, then… “I think that if you look beyond its stubbornness, how aloof and, at times, prickly it can be, you will find this concept is loyal.. and loves far deeper, far more, than anything else possibly could.”

“ _That,_ ” he chuckled. The sound was cutting. “—does not make sense. Creation is logic, not the idealization of fools.”

He only knew regret in that moment. She narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits, jawline more solid than Amaurot’s tallest building. Her voice as sharp as broken glass. “It is not my fault you fail to see the beauty in anything, Hades.”

His name had never sounded more vile. His was the villain to her hero, the sword against her shield of light. He stirred beside her in shame, a chastisement so fierce yet so gentle, he thought he’d break with a feather touch. If it’d do any good, he’d worship at her feet, beg forgiveness. But because he was a coward, he said nothing.

Diacus broke the tension by jumping up onto her lap.

“Sweet boy,” she whispered to him, petting his black fur. “He just needs a tender touch—a second, third, fourth, however many chances it takes, and he’ll be the most cherished of companions. Not even all of creation could touch how beautiful he is.”

His peripheral betrayed her. She wasn’t looking at the beast, but at him. How could she smile at him still, when all he did was disappoint her? He didn’t meet her gaze, just studied the cat on her lap. Its dark fur, green eyes, listening to the all-too-pleased sound it made. He was too… shattered to look at her, but wanted so desperately to bridge a gap between them. So, he did the only thing he thought he could do—

—and sunk fingers into Diacus’ fur. The beast let out a trill of surprise, but accepted the touch. For her, he outlined the cat’s spine with his hand, down to its tail, to the end, much like Hythlodaeus had done. Then, he stopped. What else could be done?

Somehow, she sensed his hesitation and intertwined her fingers in his. A spark ignited where she touched, zipping along his spin, to his brain, to completely shut it down. His breath caught in his throat, but if she had noticed, she didn’t say. Only moved his hand against Diacus as she would, stroking its fur from head to tail. His fingers followed hers, chasing her warmth, her touch, stomach tightening as she whispered, “Is he so bad?”

Cotton-mouthed, he struggled out a, “No,” and mimicked her hand one last time, to pet Diacus as gentle as he was able, before he pulled away altogether. Completely and absolutely overwhelmed.

“Tell Hythlodaeus, Lahabrea, Elidibus—that I shall consider their concept further.”

And just like that, everything was gone. The warmth between them, the connection, the single most important moment of their relationship—gone.

“I will let them know,” she whispered. Her tone belying her disappointment. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t look at her as she pet Diacus one last time, nor when she smuggled out one last sweet in hopes of getting a laugh out of him. Defeated, she stopped at the door, said, “Good night, Hades,” and simply left when he didn’t answer. When the door clicked closed, he let out a whoosh of air and tore off his mask, chucking it aside. He rubbed his hands over his face, fingers covering the lower portion in sheer amazement—

—at how utterly and thoroughly foolish he was. It left him speechless.

He collapsed back on the couch, hand nursing his throbbing head. Diacus popped its head up from the floor, mewled, then hopped up, pooling in his lap of all things. Hades didn’t have the energy to protest, whispered aloud “What have I done, Diacus,” amid the beast’s gentle purr.

:::

Hades crumpled another piece of parchment and threw it aside. Quiet save for the scribbling of his pen and his attempts to put feelings into words. His behavior yesterday had been abhorrent. Apologies waxed poetically fell lifeless on his ears when he read them aloud, sentiments false in the stale air. If he’d been good with words like Lahabrea, this disaster wouldn’t have happened. A shred of Elidibus’ eloquence would’ve saved him face in front of her. Underworld have him, even Nabriales wouldn’t have erred as badly as he had.

Somewhere, Diacus was playing with his failures, batting around a paper ball like this was all good and fun.

Hades envied the cat right then, which was the exact moment Diacus popped up on his desk, as simple of breathing. He frowned at the beast, grumbled, “What have I told you about my desk?” and failed to piece together another meaningful sentence of apology. Another parchment crumpled and thrown, serving naught more than a plaything for a simple beast. But Diacus wasn’t in the mood for playing any longer, no. The opposite, coming closer and ducking under his writing arm. Hades grunted his disapproval, but Diacus simply wouldn’t have it.

“What are you hoping to accomplish here?”

The question fell on deaf ears, as Diacus pushed his way under, squeezing through the tight space between the desk and Hades’ body. They struggled like this, Diacus forcing his way past a barrier of flesh and bone, and Hades trying to box himself in, protect himself from the intrusion.

In the end, Diacus won. Curled in his lap and _purring_ , nonetheless.

Hades leaned back and watched him, overly still as if he fully expected Diacus to attack him. The warm glow of the beast’s green-and-gold soul suggested otherwise, that it wasn’t playtime, but instead, nap time. Dream time. Anything but divide and conquer. Which left him unequivocally _trapped_.

Even he dared not disturb a cat while it slept.

Tentatively, Hades touched the tip of Diacus’ ear, earning him a trill of surprise. Diacus buried his head into Hades’ lap even more, took in a deep breath and exhaled, his pleased noise more intense. What came over him, Hades didn’t know, but something lured him to pet that soft fur, even scritch behind the cat’s ears. Mayhap through worshiping the beast like a common fool, he might apologize to her. So he did, running his fingers down Diacus’ back, his tail, over and over again. And somehow, through magick or otherwise, petting Diacus… calmed him.

For the first time since yesterday, Hades took a steadying breath—and all of his tension was gone. An odd feeling, this, a lull in his anxiety, a brief enough respite in which he was inspired to create.

Wings of blues and purples, of shifting greens and golds. 

Diacus popped his head up, green eyes wide and attentive. Simply studying it from his perch in Hades’ lap.

Together, they watched the butterfly flutter about, and the world seemed… right.

:::

A sound. A rumor.

Diacus paced the floor, emitting odd yowls, noises Hades didn’t akin to the cat’s normal moods and needs. Stress then, or something more sinister. A knowing, mayhap, that something had stirred deep within the star’s crust. That creation magicks had begun to falter, giving life to a myriad of terrifying beasts. That Diacus could sense this, a thick miasmic uneasiness in the air, made Hades ponder. Wonder, too, if the cat had feelings and dreams as real as his own. Did Diacus know fear? Would he if the End of Days came?

Hades busied himself that morning with a whisper of creation. A small sphere of living aether, of darkness, of the deepest onyx until he dared to will more complex concepts from his fingers. Creation calmed him, and he sputtered forth a shower of butterflies, each shifting through the colors of the rainbow. When Diacus graced Hades with his presence, the cat watched studiously. Anxious energy coursed through his dark fur, giving a second life to his tail. Green wide eyes like a child’s, curious yet afraid.

Something to calm the cat, then. A piece of lint had caught Diacus’ attention the other evening, spent half a bell chasing it, shooting down hallways and hunting shadows after the thrill. Mayhap a string this time, Hades thought, reaching deep within himself to pool in his hands creation magicks of cantrips and mischief. He willed a ball of aether into being, held it, and imagined—and with an errant heartbeat, a tremor of regret, he spread his fingers, casting the sphere out onto his desk.

That was all it took.

A moment.

A sound.

A rumor.

It lengthened, coiled, the head of it flaring. Scales erupted down its aetheric body, black as pitch, with a darkness about it that set Hades on edge. It writhed like spilt ink, with fangs and an intent to kill. Not a string at all, but a serpent, poisoned to strike at him. Hades held his breath. Hesitated.

Diacus struck before the serpent could, sinking sharp teeth into soft flesh. Claws tearing at malleable aetheric body. The monster was dead the moment Hades thought to snap his fingers. So quick and keen on protecting him was Diacus that it took his breath away. He sat there quiet, stunned, until the crush of reality awakened him.

The End was coming.

Hades let out a rush of air, gathering a protesting Diacus in his arms. He sought calm in that black fur, nuzzling the cat’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent of him. Apologizing with long strokes along his back, whispering how much of a good boy he was in his pointed ears. Somehow, Diacus took it in stride, allowing him his moment of panic and weakness, of fussing over him. They sought refuge in each other’s comfort, then Hades set to work.

Amaurot needed a plan.

:::

The Convocation of Fourteen brought an idea into being. The solution to prevent the cacophonous sound from destroying Amaurot, to save their way of life. A creation so magnificent and terrifying… the amount of sacrifice it would take.

Hades fell asleep to dream of flames, screams, of the destruction of their home, and woke in a cold sweat. Heat pooled at his side, and he wondered if he’d died in his own blood. Darkness all around him. Had he been cast into the Underworld? Did he even draw breath?

A familiar sound yanked him from his panic. There, in the shadows of his room, Diacus’ purring soothed his frazzled nerves. His heart tumbled around in his chest, and he found solace in the cat’s black fur. Beside him, Diacus was sleeping, rumbling away without a care in the world. No thought given to the predicament their star was in.

Hades followed the sound down, down, eyes drooping, breathing slow. Falling into another dream world.

_.. diacus._

_.. zodiacus .._

Zodiark.

:::

Hydaelyn.

The ground trembled beneath him as he shot down the smoky ruins of Amaurot. The flames had long since been extinguished, the skeletons of buildings reaching out to him. Dead, lifeless archways collapsed. Windows once brimming with light now impossibly dark. The sky overhead—once brilliant with a spray of stars and blessed night was searing with an endless sea of light. Her Light.

She was winning.

A tremor nearly downed him, a crack splitting earth under his foot. Hades wobbled, nearly fell, as he traversed the carcass of his home. Searching.

At any moment, they’d face their end.

The Mothercrystal was powering up for one last strike. Strong enough to destroy their very reality as they knew it.

Hades had to find him.

“Diacus!”

Shadows leapt for him, and dread snapped at his heels. He careened past The Polyleritae District, derelict and empty. No longer alive and whole with laughing children or the heat of debate. Just the sorrow of what it had been, and the faded whispers of loved ones lost to their senseless conflict.

Hades sped toward home, burst through the gate, the entrance, and bounded up the cracked staircase, two steps at a time, calling for him. Through the broken and charred door, into what had been his living room. Shattered glass and burnt pages littered the blackened floor. The ceiling had caved in. Shards of wood like spears were stuck into bookcases, halving shelves and sundering knickknacks. His desk had been toppled in the fall of Amaurot—the selfsame desk Hythlodaeus had sat on long ago, regaling him of Diacus and his nuances. Smile wide, charming—ever mischievous.

“Diacus!”

He scoured each room, searched under every ruined chair, in every cabinet, on every shelf. The aftershock of the first tremor sent him to his knees. The floor groaned beneath him, the building shook. In desperation, he grabbed onto something—anything—in hopes of holding on, holding out to find his dearest friend.

He forced himself to his feet, dared to take one last look in each and every room—

—and came back empty.

No Diacus. No mewling. No purring.

Only… nothing.

Despair chased him down the stairs, clung to him as he breached the courtyard and breathed in light-infused air. He sputtered with it, shielding his eyes against the brightness. She was destroying their world. Ruining _everything_.

In defiance, with everything he had, Hades yelled Diacus’ name.

…  
..  
. 

Nothing.

He shuddered out a breath, then just—sat down on an abandoned bench. Hydaelyn, the loss of his friends—their impending doom. It bore down on him, heavy on his shoulders. Crushing him. Exhaustion, sorrow, brought his body in on itself, slouched low with the burden of grief. His chest hollowed out with its emptiness. Hydaelyn take him, then. Just like She’d taken _them_. His friends.

_Her._

He choked on light, his eyes unfocusing, focusing again. He had to leave. Had to survive—to carry their memories, their legacy, and remember.

A flash of blue lulled his gaze up. A butterfly, of blues and purples, greens and golds. Fluttering in front of his eyes, then flitting away in the opposite direction. In a daze, Hades followed, stumbling along, tripping over broken cobblestones, around and to an alleyway that once been his favorite refuge away from the world. A bench, now shattered, was where once he had read by streetlight. Where once she had visited him with a book of her own, and together, they read into the night, peacefully without a word needed to be said.

There, looking up, mewling, was Diacus.

There, too, was _her_.

A shimmer of her outline, faded—fading still.

She looked at him, smiled—

—then she was gone.

His world—tumbled, shook by his own grief. A tear stole down his cheek, then another. Until reality crashed into him and knocked him asunder. This star was on the verge of destruction.

The sky swelled with light.

Diacus yowled.

Hades sprung into action. Scooping up Diacus despite his protests and ran. Kept running. Through the ruins of their home, to a place he knew where they’d be. Where they’d leave this star forever.

Lahabrea and Elidibus came into view as Hades bolted around the corner. They scowled at him.

“Where have you been?” Elidibus hissed. “We are on the brink of _ruin_.”

“I am aware,” Hades hissed.

“You delay our departure. For a cat. Why?” Elidibus demanded.

“He is all I have left of them,” Hades shot back. “Because he is the only one I can yet save."

“Hades. Sentimental—over a cat.” Lahabrea scoffed. “Can it even cross the Rift?”

“ _He_ will be fine,” Hades snapped.

_Please. Survive._

The star shook violently.

The three of them weathered the shaking, the splitting of wood and stone, the crashing of buildings in the distance. Lahabrea sneered at the sky. “The End is Nigh. We must away. For those we have lost.”

They were gone with a bloom of violet and darkness.

And the Light sundered their beloved star. 

:::

“Your Radiance.”

It came to him in pieces. The small, grating voice. The stiffness in his back despite the cold comfort of his throne. Dreams and lingering memories of a forgotten age dissipated. The here and now of Garlemald, his reign, and his lineage oozed in, dropping him in his throne room, in front of his—

Varis peered up at him, only a boy, barely six summers, tiny hands at his side. At attention, in full honor of his grandsire—just like he had been taught.

Emet-Selch slipped in a breath, then exhaled it with his whole being. The very presence of the child deeply unsettling. His existence so completely, utterly _flawed_.

“If you’ve dared to wake me up, it had better be for good reason.” He narrowed his eyes. “What is it, boy?”

Varis clenched his jaw. Shifted uneasily.

_Weak._

“Can I—“ The little boy cleared his throat. “Can I play with him, grandsire?”

Emet-Selch twisted his face into a grimace. “ _No_. Go away.”

The boy frowned, little hands balling into fists, then turned and stomped away, out of the throne room. Leaving Emet-Selch to roll his eyes and lean heavily into the hand perched under his jaw. “So dramatic. That trait must have belonged to his father. Certainly not me. Is that not right? What is your opinion on the matter?”

Diacus stretched long in his lap, purring as fingers found his soft black fur. That selfsame soul, green-and-gold and still so full of mischief. Of nuances imaginative and particular. A creature loyal and loving—

_Hythlodaeus beamed. ‘A better friend than anyone could hope to have.’_

_‘I love him,’ she said._

—created just for him. 

By friends lost long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Hades conceptualized 1) Legos 2) surströmming, fermented fish ~~not~~ popular in Scandinavian countries. Do Not Open Inside.  
> \- How does the Aetherial Rift actually work? No idea. But cats are allowed. ♥
>
>> Do you want a place where you can scream about Emet-Selch* and be totally, completely accepted and loved? Come over to [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/ctR3S9H). We'd love you have you! ♥
>> 
>> * ~~or any other character in FFXIV~~


End file.
